


Daily Activity Report

by OphisPeleia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Pre-TFA, Starkiller Base, can't have nice things in the First Order, sanitation detail, workplace friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OphisPeleia/pseuds/OphisPeleia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little slice of life from FN-2187's days on sanitation duty. Self-fill from the TFA kinkmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daily Activity Report

"Daily activity reports will be turned in to Recordsman Yera. Your reports will be complete, legible, and promptly submitted. Long live the First Order."

Seated behind the desk is an olive-skinned woman, black hair cropped down to almost nothing, a wrinkle or two showing on her face. She's eyeing the queued-up troopers a little suspiciously, but then that happens a lot. Apparently it gets better once someone _else_ is the new meat.

FN-2187 tentatively slides a card over. Yera frowns as she looks it over, then points to the blank spots that shouldn't be. "Designation, here and here. Distance traveled here, certify beginning and ending inspections of your collection unit here." A few seconds of scribbling. "Acceptable." He realizes the recordsman has turned to the next 'trooper in line and heads for the refreshers.

***

The next day, FN-2187's activity report is filled out perfectly. Yera says nothing as she transcribes it into the aggregation system, but a tiny smile flickers over her face.

***

Days of routine stretch into weeks, stretch into months. The routes through the same sector of Starkiller Base, the now-familiar classifications of garbage—food waste, packaging, recoverable materials, and the remnants of scenes he preferred not to think about—and at the end, Yera at her desk, her face turning a little less grim at the sight of him. He hands today's card to her. She nods. "Thank you."

***

A fixture, a tiny comfort on this rotten detail.

"FN-2187. You are well?"  
"Satisfactory."  
"Your squad is well?"  
"They are."  
A nod, a smile that borders on kindly. "Long live the First Order."

***

"FN-2187. You are well?"  
"I am. I see there's a route available in Sector 1 that I would like to be assigned to."  
"I don't recommend it. Sector 1 hasn't reached its weight targets more than five days in the last thirty. They're being put under extra supervision."  
"I withdraw my request, then."

***

Yera's face is pinched, her breathing slow and deliberate. FN-2187 brushes his hand against hers as he places the card on her desk, then leaves without speaking.

***

"Changes to the recordsman duty roster have been published, effective tomorrow."

***

"Daily activity reports will be turned in to Recordsman Hinath." At Yera's desk—no, not her desk anymore—is a stout, brown-skinned woman with braids hanging down her chest. She reaches over and takes FN-2187's card without sparing him a glance. It's just as well that his helmet hides his face.

***

The sanitation duty 'troopers never do see Yera again.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration provided by the author's experiences working for a municipal sanitation department IRL, though being reassigned to ~~kriffing Tatooine~~ another location because another worker pulled seniority is a lot less sinister than what probably happened to Yera.


End file.
